


head in the clouds (but my gravity's centered)

by jaih0



Series: Alpine: the LGBTQ ally that we all need [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Meet the Family, sad boy hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaih0/pseuds/jaih0
Summary: Bucky's cheeks burned, embarrassment flushing his face with pink and red. It was his fault. He had been given the very simple task of getting some ingredients to make dinner, but it was a bad day. Getting out of bed was a harder task than it should have been, so Sam told him to take it easy. And now they were here, without food, and Sam was about to leave him alone.Well, not alone. Alone would have been better.Bucky meets Sam's sister, and it's not all fun and games.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: Alpine: the LGBTQ ally that we all need [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016589
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	head in the clouds (but my gravity's centered)

**Author's Note:**

> title from The Neighbourhood's "Sweater Weather"  
> this is a continuation of the series. It is highly recommended that you read [a stranger to my eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586810/chapters/67484575) first.

Sarah Wilson was a formidable woman, and for the third time that day, Bucky wondered whether personality was genetic. 

Bucky had never been the guy to take home to the parents, even before his time as the Winter Soldier. He used to gladly accept the role of the charmer who never went steady with any of the ladies. His reputation preceded him, and it was no different now, apart from the fact that it had gotten worse. 

So when he was informed that Sam's sister was going to be stopping by, one could say that Bucky was less than thrilled. 

"She's going to love you," Sam had assured him, giving him a quick kiss on the nose that, even after two weeks of them officially dating, still had him reeling. And if he reached back to Sam to pull him closer for another proper kiss, then it was no one's business. "She's not even here to meet you. Sarah's just coming to check on me," Sam had also said, but Bucky took that with a grain of salt.

There was no way he was getting out of it, so he knew he had to accept it. Which brought him to his present predicament, with him sitting on one end of the small table in the apartment, Sarah Wilson on the other side, watching Bucky with a gaze that reminded him all too much of her brother. 

"So," Sam murmured, his hand curled firmly on Bucky's shoulder, a reminder that he was standing behind him. Bucky tilted his head slightly, gazing upwards at Sam, who gave him a soft smile in return. "You two going to be fine if I run out to get the groceries?"

Bucky's cheeks burned, embarrassment flushing his face with pink and red. It was his fault. He had been given the very simple task of getting some ingredients to make dinner, but it was a bad day. Getting out of bed was a harder task than it should have been, so Sam told him to take it easy. And now they were here, without food, and Sam was about to leave him alone.

Well, not alone. Alone would have been better. 

Sam's hand withdrew from Bucky's shoulder, lingering for as long as possible before it lifted completely off of him. Maybe he said goodbye and Bucky didn't hear it; the only thing that Bucky clearly picked up with his ears was the sound of the door closing. There was no running away from conversation any longer. 

When he finally decided to return Sarah's gaze, Bucky was somewhat comforted by her casual nature of sitting, the way that she leaned back into the chair, one hand splayed on the table while the other arm rested next to her on the chair. "Hello," she murmured softly, and Bucky forced himself to relax, every single muscle in his body tensed up from sheer panic or whatever it was that he was facing. 

"Hey," he muttered back, before meeting her stare fully, "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well today." And that was progress, at least: something about the first step having to do with admitting to it. 

"That's fine," Sarah replied steadily, "Is it okay if I call you Bucky?"

"'Course." Bucky shifted in his chair, trying to match her posture, the mood she was projecting. He rolled his shoulders back, feeling them hit the top of the chair as he attempted to lean back comfortably. Sarah watched him, studied him actually, her eyes never leaving his face. 

"Sam's told me a lot about you," she said, and Bucky felt so, so naked, and not in a good way. 

"Oh really?" He tried to keep his voice from quivering. Jokingly, or at least in an attempt to be joking, he added, "Hope it's only the good things, ma'am."

The woman flashed a smile, and warmth coursed through Bucky. Finally, he had done something that was apparently correct. "Oh god, call me Sarah. Please do  _ not  _ call me ma'am," Sarah chuckled, "That's our mother if you meet her, though."

A shiver ran up Bucky's spine at the mention of Sam's mother. Somehow, the very  _ idea _ of meeting someone's parents was the worst thing Bucky could conceive in his mind. "I'll keep that in mind, Sarah." His fingers went up to loosen the collar of his shirt, a movement that did not escape Sarah's eyes. "Do you have questions for me?" He blurted out, dragging his hands down to fold them neatly in his laps.    


"Hm?" One of Sarah's neatly threaded eyebrows went up in what Bucky could only describe as practiced surprise. Bucky sighed. She was only returning the same energy of whatever forced atmosphere Bucky was creating. 

"Right before I got sent out to the front lines, my sister got a boyfriend," Bucky murmured finally, leaning forward. Sarah mirrored his movement, and he was encouraged to continue when he noticed a spark of something in her eyes. "And I had to do the big brother shit. I understand that you're the younger sibling, but…" His arms braced against the table in front of him as he instinctively leaned even closer. "You've got to have questions."

"I do have questions, of course," Sarah said bluntly, as if she had been waiting to say it since Sam left. "But I'm not here to question your morals." A small smile played on her lips, staring  _ past _ him for once, her eyes tracing the wall behind him, as if watching a memory play out. "I'm just here to check on my brother. And he's happy." One corner of her smile tilted higher than the other, an expression that reminded him of Sam. 

"I'm happy with him, too," he said, not a whisper but not loud enough to be entirely conversational. Replaying his murmured words again in his head, he immediately backtracked, "If that was the reason you were pointing out that he was happy. Me, I mean. Sorry."

"No, that's what I meant," Sarah replied quickly. She was very much like Sam in that regard, reassurement always on the tip of the tongue. The reassurement was always followed by truthful analysis, though, and Sarah didn't differ from Bucky's expectation of that as she continued, "Actually, I guess I have questions about your intentions."   


"Go for it." Bucky didn't want her to  _ go for it, _ but he had to put up some sort of front. 

"Are you capable of having a serious relationship?" Sarah asked, tilting her head slightly. Her braids slipped off her shoulders with the movement, brushing against the table. "It's not fair for me to judge you for your past," she added, "But I will always be looking out for my brother." 

"I understand that," Bucky answered dutifully, "And yes, I am capable of having one, at least for your brother."

Sarah lifted a hand up gracefully, leaning her cheek against her fist. Even so, the gesture did nothing to make Bucky's tension ease. "You are aware of Riley, right?"   


Bucky sucked in a breath. "Yes," Bucky gritted out, "I'm aware." An exhale through his nose was meant to calm him, but as he huffed out the breath, he quickly realized how it sounded.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, slumping slightly into his chair. "I'm not angry." His insides boiled with shame, and what was worse was the fact that Sarah was regarding him with a blank stare that he couldn't read. 

"It's fine," she said, her breathing steady, but something about her posture had changed. Even with her outward confidence, her spine was too straight, and one of her hands had fallen down on top of her thigh, clenched in a fist. Bucky searched his head for the mental timer on how long Sam had been gone; he couldn't do this anymore. 

As if some higher power had decided to bless him for once, but only slightly, his phone started to buzz. A quiet apology leaving his mouth, he slipped the phone out of his pocket, not at all surprised to see Sam's contact name. The phone was flat in his palm, so there was no doubt in his head that Sarah had also seen who was calling him. He lifted the phone up to his ear.

"Hey Sam, how are you doing?" Bucky murmured, finding some amount of interest in all the small etches in the wooden table.

"Bucky, is Sarah sitting with you right now?" was the response he got from the other side of the line. Bucky straightened up immediately, his eyes flicking to Sarah, who leaned forward as if sensing the shift in the energy. Of course, it wasn't hard to hear Sam's voice through the phone, but by itself, his words didn't bear any trace of fear or anger. His tone was different, though. There was a slight breathiness to it, and not the fun kind; it sounded more like the kind that was produced after running a mile at high speeds achieved only by being chased. 

Or just the type of breathing produced by pure anxiety. 

"Yes," he answered slowly, keeping his voice low. Sarah carefully got out of her seat, creeping over to where Bucky was. Something about the idea of her potentially leaning over his shoulder was off putting to him, so he stood up as well.

"I think I left one of my wallets on the dresser," Sam said back, suddenly cheerful. Bucky's eyes scanned the room, meeting Sarah's for a brief second as he looked to the window, to all the lights outside.

"Is there someone coming for us? Or is there someone coming for you?" Bucky asked. He waved his metal hand towards himself, the gesture directed at Sarah, and she quickly went to follow him as he darted towards one of the drawers. If she was perturbed by the two guns he grabbed from within it, she didn't show it.    


"I think it should be in the…  _ second _ drawer. Yes. That sounds right. But check both just in case," Sam mused, and Bucky could hear a car on the other side of the line. Based on the small sound that the engine made every few seconds, Bucky knew it was the car they had rented in New York City. Cars in the city weren't the best idea, but due to their constant need to get away from things, renting one had been something of a solution. 

"How do you know, Sam? Did someone inform you, or did you see someone?" Bucky questioned again, moving slightly towards the door. 

"Uh… can you say that again? My signal is bad."

"Did someone inform you?" Sarah said over Bucky's shoulder, and he turned slightly to meet her eyes, seeing something like fear, but also determination, lurking there. So much like her brother that Bucky was starting to fear that she would go out the door herself, to face whatever was there. 

"No, that's not it."

"So you saw someone?" Bucky clarified, even though he was certain about Sam's answer.

"Yes, that should be it," Sam agreed, and Sarah slapped Bucky's arm, a movement that Bucky did not predict. It shocked him more than he would like to admit, and the surprise lingered as Sarah gripped his arm.

"Is he in a car?" Sarah whispered, and Bucky nodded, dread flooding his senses as she continued, "Then why is he still talking in code?"

If Bucky gripped the phone any tighter, it should shatter. "Sam," Bucky hissed, "Is someone with you?"

"Yes, I already told you it was that one." And it was true, as much as the statement made Bucky want to tear his hair out. The grip around his arm tightened considerably. 

"Are you with someone that you know? And if so, are they an agent?" Bucky asked, opening the door of the apartment as he spoke. Sarah followed him as he slipped through the door. 

"Yes, yes, you can get that one instead. Actually," Sam added suddenly, causing Bucky to stop his descent down the staircase to the bottom floor. His pause gave him the opportunity to slip Sarah the other gun, which she readily accepted. "You know the… wallet with the imported leather? The English leather?"

"Sam," Bucky whispered, forcing himself to continue down the stairs, "Is it one of the British agents?"

"Finally, yes, that should be the proper one," Sam murmured back, and there was a hint of relief in his voice, making his words sound more like an exhale than anything. "Do you think you can drop it off?" 

"What's your location?" Bucky asked back, reaching the bottom of the stairs. Sarah removed her hand from his forearm, keeping pace easily with him as he darted out the door of the building, the sounds of city life greeting him. 

“Well, if you want to meet up with me, I'm actually going to grab something to eat with Agent Paul, here. Met him at the supermarket,” Sam replied, still keeping up the cheerful facade, but this time Bucky could hear someone in the background. When Sam continued to speak, it was clear that the words weren't in response to Bucky. “Yeah, it's just my  _ friend _ on the line. Forgot something.” A few more seconds of partial silence, a murmur on the end of the line that Bucky mentally slapped himself for not being able to hear, and then Sam's voice piped up again. “I thought we were going to get something to eat?”

At the end of the bustling street, a taxi appeared, and Sarah, as if reading Bucky’s mind, stretched her hand forward to signal for it. Luckily, it pulled over, right as Sam said, “Right, so we are going to be at the one Coffee Bean that we always visit. You know the one?” 

As Bucky got into the back of the cab, he clutched the phone tighter. His mouth opened and closed, and he tried to force himself to talk, say anything to the driver. “Did he say Coffee Bean? The nearest one?” Sarah murmured, and Bucky nodded, feeling numb as she relayed the information to the driver. This was not helping his case as the competent boyfriend. 

The taxi started to move, each bump in the road amplified to Bucky. The place was close by, which was another blessing as every second that passed brought him closer to ripping the headrest off of the seat in front of him. On the other side of the line, he could hear Sam talking, slightly muffled by the sounds around him. The noises of the car through the phone had given way to the noises of street life, then followed by the bell of a door opening and more hushed voices of customers in the shop. And then the taxi slowed. 

Bucky shoved a hand down one of his pockets, thanking whatever somewhat twisted entity was watching him for his laziness when it came to removing his wallet from his pocket. He slapped a twenty dollar bill (or maybe it was a fifty) and fled out the car, the sound of the door opening and closing behind him letting him know that Sarah was following after him still. 

Later, he would be embarrassed with the ferocity that he used to open the doors of the shop, the way he clutched the handles and flung the doors aside so hard they almost fell off their hinges drawing attention to him immediately. Even so, it was New York City, and everyone went back to doing what they were doing. 

His eyes were drawn to Sam, out of pure instinct. It wasn't hard to find him; every cell of Bucky’s body felt hardwired to find him, no matter what. He and another man were sitting next to one of the windows, Sam's back turned to Bucky. Of all of the people who had noticed his entrance, the man facing Sam had yet to turn away from Bucky, his face reddening drastically. He strode towards the occupied table, and only then did Sam turn and face him. Bucky skipped right past him, though, bringing his left hand down on the other man's shoulder, Agent Paul or whatever, hard. 

“Hey pal,” Bucky gritted out, trying to keep up some semblance of fake cheer. He could feel the man shivering through his metal arm. It was a violent shake, the one of someone who had never been in a fight, the type caused by a will to live for oneself and not an organization, the one that gave away the fact that there was no cyanide capsule concealed as a tooth.

“Oh,” Bucky said suddenly, and both Sarah and Sam, with identical looks of confusion, stared up at him. “Oh, you're not an agent.” 

Sarah's eyes glanced from Bucky to Paul to Sam in quick succession, before looking back at Bucky with an expression that made him feel like he was going to be punched very soon. “Bucky,” Sam spoke slowly, carefully, “What's going on?”

Paul squeaked, the sound shocking Bucky as he released his grip. “I'm sorry,” Paul got out, stumbling over his words, “I'm sorry for lying.”

“But you're not… Hydra?” Bucky asked incredulously, and the poor man looked up at Bucky with a face that proved that there was no limit to how much fear someone could experience. 

“Oh dear god, no no no,” Paul said, his words all melding together as he spat them out quickly. “No, definitely not, oh my.” He adjusted his tie, loosening it as sweat pooled underneath his jaw, over his neck. “No, I'm a…” His eyes met Bucky’s for a brief second before averting them and finishing his sentence. “I'm a reporter.” 

Bucky let out an exhale, immediately moving away, closer to Sam. “Jesus,” he muttered, and Sam barked a laugh.

“Oh god. Sorry for the false alarm,” Sam added, looking to Sarah and then Bucky, keeping his gaze on him. 

“It's okay, you know you can call me whenever,” Bucky murmured back, and he caught Sarah’s eye. There was a contemplative nature to her look, the small upward tilt at the corner of her lip giving him a bit of confidence that something had worked in his favor. He turned back to the reporter, leaning in across the table. 

“Hey,” he snapped, and Paul stared up at him with wide eyes, “I better not see  _ any  _ story in  _ any  _ magazine. Got it?” The man was already nodding by the time that Bucky had finished speaking, and when Bucky realized that he wasn't going to get a verbal response, he turned his attention back to Sam. 

“You ready to go?” Bucky said softly, and Sam got up, looping his arm through Sarah's. 

“Yeah, ‘course. The car is parked in the garage across the street.” Sam smoothed his shirt down as he and Sarah walked towards the door, their footsteps almost in sync. Bucky shot Paul another deathly glare before following after them. 

Bucky caught up to them outside, right after exiting the shop, and was not surprised to see that Sarah was already interrogating him. “Why did you even go anywhere with him?” She asked angrily as Bucky made his way to Sam's side. 

“I was supposed to have a meeting with an agent, at some point, most likely today. It was a last minute thing, I assumed it was him,” Sam said nonchalantly as they entered the dark of the parking garage. His peace with the situation was disorienting. 

“Sam…” Bucky said, his name sounding more like a sigh. Sam tilted his head to face Bucky partially, and there was something in his eyes that made Bucky stop what he was going to say.

The car ride back was silent. So was the walk up the flight of stairs to the apartment. 

Upon entering their home, Sam made a beeline to his room, while Sarah wordlessly handed Bucky's gun back to him, which he almost forgot was tucked in her jacket. Also in silence, he slid both guns back into the drawer they came from. And then he stood there, and so did Sarah.

“I don't know how to help him.” Sarah's words were soft, intimate, and Bucky wondered if he was supposed to hear them. His eyes met hers. “You know something's going on with him, right?”

“Yes, I know,” Bucky answered back, keeping his voice low. Sarah scooped her purse off the counter, but her eyes remained on him. They were distant, though; Bucky doubted that she was even completely aware that she was looking at him. 

“Can you tell Sam that I left? I don't think he would want to see anyone, right now,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. Bucky found himself nodding. 

Sarah crept around the counter, coming closer to Bucky. It felt vaguely suffocating, even though she was still an arm's length away from him. “Bucky,” she whispered, “I still don't know how I feel about you.” 

His head  _ hurt _ , and he knew it wasn't a normal headache; he didn't get those anymore. Sarah stepped a little closer, and Bucky fought his instincts, refusing to step back. “But,” Sarah continued, even quieter, “I know that you come the closest to understanding what he's going through.” 

And then she swept past him, towards the exit. The door to Sam's room remained closed, but her eyes flicked to it anyway, as if that would change.

“Take care of him,” she said, the only goodbye necessary, and then she closed the door behind her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure how I feel about this, but it sets up some problems for the future. Also, I am currently writing a new series, which I will be dedicating most of my time on, called [SHIELD's Best Podcast and Other Things Bucky Should Not Have](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305882/chapters/69358278), so if you're interested, check that out!


End file.
